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Chapter twenty-three
HELL IN A SILVER LINING.
TONY
Damn, I am late. How on earth can I be late?
My breath fogs the air as I yank the door shut behind me. The crisp Zurich morning bites my cheeks, but there's no time to admire the alpine glow on the snow-capped peaks. I'm late, and Dr. Schneider's clinic waits for no one.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, breaking into a jog down the pathway from Liam's front door to where the taxi idles, its exhaust mingling with my own cloudy puffs of urgency.
"Airport?" the driver asks, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
"No, the clinic on Seestrasse."
"Ah, schnell, schnell," he responds, a mantra I've adopted since moving here.
We lurch forward, the cab's engine groaning against the early hour, my mind racing like a bunny rabbit on steroids, consumed by what this appointment means. My mother is coming home.
Funny how my mind keeps referring to Liam’s house as home. What’s with that? Wishful thinking? It is gorgeous, though. What girl doesn’t like a palace?
My phone rings, and it is Dr. Schneider’s office, reminding me about the appointment.
“I am so sorry I’m running a little late, but I’m on my way. Should be there soon.”
“Don’t you worry. We will see you as soon as you get here.”
“Thank you. See you soon.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I put the phone back in my pocketbook, and that’s when I notice that I don’t have the papers I was to take to Dr. Schneider.
"Stop the car!" The words explode from me, more panic than command.
"Was ist los?" The driver's confusion mirrors my own dread.
"I left something back at the house. Please turn around!"
We make a U-turn, and before long, we pull up to the house, and I throw myself out of the cab before it fully stops.
"Wait here!" I yell over my shoulder. I get to the door, reach into my bag for the keys and find none. The door is closed. And it's self-locking. I must have left the keys right next to the manila envelope with the medical documents.
"No, no, no." I grasp the handle, my body tensing as it refuses to yield. "This can't be happening."
I slap my pockets, praying for the feel of metal, the shape of a key, but there's nothing. Just fabric and the cold realization that I'm locked out.
"Need help?" The driver leans out the window and shouts, concern etched across his face.
"Locked out," I shout back, the two words encapsulating the disaster of the moment.
"Ah, das ist schlecht." (Ah, that is bad)
I pull out my phone with trembling fingers, hitting Liam's number. He picks up on the first ring.
"Tony? What's wrong? Are you alright?"
"Locked out. I accidentally locked myself out."
"Okay, okay. Calm down. I'll send someone over right away. Please don’t worry. I’ll put a rush on it."
